Anika Moa is a goddess

After watching the NZ Music Awards, all I can say is thank god for Anika Moa. Barefoot, sweary, and funny as hell, she was the only person taking the piss out of this pompous, shambolic affair. Traditionally New Zealanders are very good at doing a half-arsed job. It’s only been in the past ten years we’ve started expecting effusive congratulations for this.

Smashproof and Gin Wigmore did an okay run-through of their all-conquering hit, but hilariously Wigmore was stranded on a plinth for much of the number with nothing to do except wait for the chorus, and they had this strange thing at the end where a bunch of kids wearing pink ribbons and black T-shirts lined up on the stage – except that when they turned around, the TV camera was too far away to read whatever slogan they had printed on their backs.

Poor, awesome, stooped, daggy Ladyhawke. Never put someone with Aspergers in a situation where they have to be hugged and kissed a lot, and then address a large group of people, say… the whole of Vector Arena.

I also had to stop shouting “Fuck off!” whenever Midnight Youth won something, as they won a lot of awards. My god, it takes most bands decades to become that dull. I didn’t realise how tiny the lead singer is, perhaps he is Woody Allen from the ’70s. They were totally blown away by the Mint Chicks, who are a far more interesting band, covering ‘She’s A Mod’.

I’m also slightly depressed that Ray Columbus & The Invaders formed at the end of the ’50s, yet their big hit is a transparent Beatles pastiche, complete with headshaking, Beatles suits and haircuts, and “Yeah yeahs”. It was hard being a band in the early ’60s unless you could do stuff like that. Ask the Kinks.

2 Responses to “Anika Moa is a goddess”

Never put someone with Aspergers in a situation where they have to be hugged and kissed a lot, and then address a large group of people, say… the whole of Vector Arena.

I thrive in the controlled situation of a lecture or tutorial, but yeah, the mob psychology and vampire-like, soul-sucking demands for ridiculous displays of conviviality from the more narcissistic and dimwitted breed of neurotypical gets fucking annoying The Hell that I would condemn them to is… Courtenay Place.

I forgot to mention that the Feelers unexpectedly picked up an award for Highest Selling NZ Album for their egregious greatest hits, and the seating organiser obviously hadn’t expected this, because they were somewhere at the back of the Arena, and were quite pissed off by the time they got to the stage. As they waddled up crossly, Dai Henwood said “Keep clapping… it makes you feel stink if they stop clapping, eh.”